Savage tightened his arms around her and kept rocking, dropping his chin on top of her silky hair and letting her cry herself out. It took a good fifteen minutes before she managed to get control and then another five before she found the courage to lift her gaze to his again.
“I’m sorry, Savage. I don’t know what got into me.”
He bent his head to sip at the tears on her face, following the trail to the corner of her mouth before he pressed a gentle kiss on the trembling curve of her lips. He brushed caresses back and forth, taking his time, letting her know he wasn’t in the least upset with her and they had all the time in the world. When he lifted his head, he casually reached for his jacket, the one lying just at fingertips’ reach on the table, and pulled it to him so he could wrap it around her shoulders and back, enveloping her completely.
“Take your time, Seychelle. Nothing you feel is wrong. There’s nothing wrong between us. You give me everything and more. This is a little glitch.”
Her eyes moved over his face, then went back to his eyes and she shook her head. “It isn’t though. It really isn’t. I screwed up. I screwed up, and it could have cost me you. I could have gotten you killed. What if I’d killed you?”
Her eyes filled with tears again, and her slender arms slid around his neck, fingers linking at his nape. She pressed in, as if she could melt her skin into his. Damn if her nipples weren’t hot enough to do just that. Her generous breasts mashed up against his chest, and he felt every intriguing inch of her. He wanted to peel her back and yet mold her to him at the same time. He did neither. He stroked his hand down the back of her hair, a long, soothing stroke, while he continued to rock her.
“I told you, baby, I’m damn hard to kill. We came prepared, knowing they were going to start shit with me. I’ve got you to balance me out.” Amusement crept into his voice because in spite of what was happening at that moment, she centered him.
“This isn’t funny, Savage,” she objected swiftly, sounding a little more like the old Seychelle, his Seychelle. That little snippy voice she sometimes gave him when she was about to lift her stubborn chin and her eyes flashed that gorgeous blue flame at him.
He pulled back a couple of inches just to see if she was going to give him those things. Yep. She was. Her eyes glittered at him fiercely, like twin gemstones. Relief swept through him. He smiled down at her, his first genuine smile in quite a while. The knots unraveled in his belly.
“Believe me, I’m taking this threat very seriously; we all are. That’s why you’re here. Czar insisted, or I would have locked your ass up in a basement somewhere with all kinds of bondage equipment surrounding you to keep you hot, anticipating my arrival home.”
That got him a raised eyebrow. “Funny how your answer always has some sexual innuendo in it. You can’t think with your cock, Savage. I’m very serious about getting you killed. I did that.”
She was so serious, back to sounding distressed, that he continued to rock her and pet her hair, stroking caress after caress down those unruly waves. “I know you’re serious, angel. You scared me is all. Seeing you feisty helps me breathe a little. You’re going to have to give me that. Now, you good enough to sit back and talk to me about what you think is going on? I can build up the fire in the pit and get us something to eat and drink. You put on a sweater or my jacket and curl up in the chair while I see to our fire and food, unless you’re not good yet.”
She lifted her chin to meet his eyes again. This time her gaze was soft with love, turning his heart over. She gave him a tentative smile. “I’m good, honey. You do the fire. I’ll find a sweater and see to the food.”
Savage was extremely happy when she made the first move to lean back in and kiss him. It wasn’t a full-on kiss, but it was enough to tell him she wasn’t terrified out of her fucking mind, afraid he was going to hurt her.
“Honey, you have to let go of me so I can get out of your lap.” She nuzzled his chest. “I feel very safe sitting here with you, but I don’t think we’re going to get anything done.”
He found himself reluctant to let her go. She’d never, not once, freaked out on him like that. He swept the pads of his fingers over her face, searching her delicate features carefully for any sign that the trauma was still with her. “You sure you’re all right now, Seychelle?”
She nodded. “Absolutely. If you’re worried, we can sit here and talk, Savage.” She snuggled closer to him. Her bottom slid over his cock, the one thing he was trying to avoid. He didn’t want to think about sex with her right now. They had to figure this puzzle out, not have mind-blowing, carnal, out-of-control, explosive sex like they did every time he touched her.
His answer was to lift her off of him, although he made it clear he did so with obvious reluctance. He didn’t want her to think he wanted her away from him. She was a little unsteady on her feet, and twice he noticed out of the corner of his eye, while he worked on the fire, how she caught the back of a chair or the picnic table to steady herself.
Savage would have preferred she keep his Torpedo Ink colors on her, but she folded them neatly and pulled on a long sweater that fell to the backs of her thighs. Shoving her feet in a pair of flip-flops, she made them sandwiches again from the various supplies Hitch had put in a cooler for them. She added chips and beer for him, sparkling water for her, and then sank back into the chair he’d pulled close to the firepit for her.
He wanted his chair as close to hers as possible. There wasn’t going to be any escape from this talk for her. He’d zipped up his jeans but left his shirt off. Around them, the rest of Torpedo Ink did what they always did on a run. They’d spread out in pairs, getting a feel for the mood of the various clubs and the underlying tension that ran beneath the party atmosphere. They would collect information as they went. They were adept at knowing what the smallest hint of gossip might mean.
“What happened, Seychelle? No more bullshit. This started before we left. You got upset and refused to talk to me. We had an agreement that we wouldn’t do that.” He poured command into his voice. He was no longer sweet and gentle but demanding.
She had been looking into the fire. Now she turned her head, and those blue eyes of hers fixed on his face. He knew better than to ever stare into a fire. Doing that made one blind, even if it was momentarily. The firelight played with the gold and platinum colors in her hair. He wanted to reach over and slide his fingers into it but didn’t dare. Right now, he had to be in charge. She had to know he wasn’t going to let her off the hook.
Seychelle took a deep breath and let it out. “You made fun of me just like she did. Just like Shari. She said something similar outside the bar that first night. About giving you a blow job, how I wouldn’t know how to give you one the way you like it. She said it again in town in front of Brandon. Then, when we were talking about it, when I asked you what Shari meant when she said you liked a blow job a specific way, you acted so amused. Just the way she did. I said I didn’t understand, and you said of course not. And that clearly amused you. Instead of talking to me about it and helping me to understand, you laughed at me. Like she did. Like Brandon did. Just because I’m inexperienced.”
Inwardly he groaned. He could see the naked hurt on her face. “Baby, it wasn’t like that at all.”